


A Kiss Like a Drug

by selinakyle47



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Come Eating, Cunnilingus, F/M, False Identity, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selinakyle47/pseuds/selinakyle47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little does Natasha know that her bar hook-up is someone who is intimately familiar with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to [What I Need](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1983357).

The man claiming the barstool two places down barely earns a second glance from Natasha. And why should he? She’s not here to do surveillance or a threat assessment. No, this is strictly for pleasure: a well-made vodka martini leisurely consumed in the midst of a lively bar that caters to the after-work crowd. Everyone’s too busy catching up with friends and co-workers to notice the woman in the corner toying with the garnish on her drink and watching the baseball game on the television mounted across the room.

She's just sent off a text to May confirming their dinner reservations for next week when a question is posed to her.

"Is it better with vodka?"

Natasha wrests her eyes away from the screen and sees that stranger has somehow moved into the seat next to her without her noticing. At her raised brow he hurries to explain, “I overheard the bartender asking if you wanted another one.”

Someone’s been paying close attention to her. She lets her gaze boldly wander over him, from the short blond curls on his head, to the sharp angles of his cheekbones, and all the way down to his crotch, where the faint outline of an impressive bulge piques her interest. Such a blatant appraisal typically discourages all but the most oblivious but apparently he isn't intimidated, judging by the way the corner of his mouth tilts up.

"It's the only way to make a dirty martini," she answers coolly, plucking a speared olive from her glass and bringing it to her mouth. Her tongue darts out to catch a drop of alcohol clinging to it, a move that seemingly mesmerizes him. His gaze snaps to her lips, lingers there a moment, then slowly, deliberately sweeps up to meet hers. Natasha sees amusement reflected in his blue eyes. Along with an intense curiosity that seems vaguely familiar.

She’s about to turn this particular puzzle over in her head when he interrupts her train of thought with another question. "And you like it dirty?"

The combination of clunky come-on and earnestness almost makes her laugh out loud. And just for that, Natasha decides to play along. "The filthier the better," she answers, her voice pitched low and inviting, before finally sucking the olive into her mouth.

His reaction is immediate and utterly predictable. He breaks into a wide smile as he motions the bartender over. "Another martini for the lady. And one for me as well."

* * *

 

In the twenty minutes it takes to finish her second drink, Luke – as he’s introduced himself – has somehow managed to charm Natasha, enough that she’s seriously contemplating taking him home. It’s not an entirely bad idea. After all, the batteries in her vibrator need replacing and she could do worse than a tourist who'll be on a return flight home tomorrow.

She shifts closer, ready to invite him back to her place when a loud cheer erupts from the other end of the bar. Shot glasses with lime wedges balanced on the rim are soon passed down to them. “Someone’s celebrating a promotion,” says the bartender with a shrug as he places a salt shaker between them.

Natasha glances over at him and catches the look of confusion that flickers across his face. “Ever had a tequila shot?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t say I have.”

“You’ll like it,” she assures him, reaching for the salt shaker. Natasha lifts her hand and licks along the web of skin between her thumb and forefinger. She sprinkles a small amount of salt over it, then twists her wrist to show him. “Your turn.”

Although he seems bemused and a little unsure, Luke indulges her and mimics her previous actions. When he’s finished, he holds up his hand for her close inspection. “Do I have it right?”

Flashing him a quick smile, Natasha says, “Looks good to me,” and grasps his wrist. His eyes widen slightly in surprise but he offers no resistance when she brings his hand to her mouth. She delicately touches her tongue to his skin and licks the salt off. Though his posture remains easy and relaxed, his pulse accelerates under her fingertips. Not that she can lay claim to being unaffected herself; Natasha’s doing all she can to keep from pressing her thighs together to ease the ache between them.

She tosses back her shot and sucks on the lime, hoping that the tartness of the fruit will serve as a distraction. It does, just barely, until the moment she drops the lime in her empty shot glass and Luke takes his turn.

He twists his wrist to capture her fingers, keeping his eyes on her as he bends his head over her hand. The warmth of his tongue on her skin sends electricity sizzling down her spine. Her vision goes hazy, which she chalks up to arousal and an alcoholic buzz. It’s like she’s looking at him through a filter, one that seems to darken blond hair to black. The effect won’t go away, even when she blinks, so she tilts her head to get another perspective.

What she sees turns the blood in her veins to ice. Her fingers twitch reflexively, itching for the comforting feel of the Glock she left back at her apartment.

It shouldn’t be possible. Loki is supposed to be dead. Buried on a distant planet and no longer a threat to Earth. She doubts that Thor lied to SHIELD, which means that Loki somehow managed to fool his brother, though for what purpose she can’t even begin to imagine.

When he finally releases her to pick up his drink, Natasha attempts to hide her shock by downing what little is left of her martini. She quickly goes through all the options available to her. SHIELD protocols call for a strike team to be assembled immediately, but even if they managed to capture him – and there’s a good chance they won’t – she isn’t certain that they have ability to hold him indefinitely. And there’s no guarantee that Thor will go along with it once he discovers that they have him in custody.

She discards that idea and moves on to the next. She _could_ continue to play Loki’s game, whatever it is. That he’s been stalking her is clear; it’s not a coincidence that he just happened upon her at her favorite bar. What is not is _why_ he hasn’t tried to kill her already. Knowing his inflated ego, he must still be harboring a grudge against her for that mistake on the Helicarrier. And while she can hold her own against anyone – superpowers excepted – she hardly thinks she'll be able to do much damage in a one on one fight against an Asgardian, especially one as skilled in magic as him.

Loki could have taken her down at any time. No one would even be able to link any attack to him given his current “deceased” status. But he hasn’t. Instead he sought her out, toying with her as a cat might do with a mouse before killing it.

Natasha intends to deprive him of that pleasure. It’s a shame he hasn’t learned his lesson about underestimating her.

Dropping her hand over his knee, she strokes her thumb along the inside seam of his pants. She leans forward, in a way that is sure to draw attention to her cleavage, and asks coyly, “Do you have any plans for tonight?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took such an appallingly long time to update, and for that my apologies.

For the kind of interrogation she has in mind there’s only one place in which to carry it out. The building housing the tiny studio apartment that serves as her current safe house is in its last stages of construction. Since hers is the only one that’s occupied on her floor there are no neighbors to disturb or, if things go south, to get caught in the crossfire.

In the relative privacy of the hallway outside her door, Loki becomes more confident. The hand resting on the small of her back drifts down to lightly palm the curve of her ass. Natasha hums in appreciation and pushes back, her eager façade meant to disarm him of any suspicion. When the key finally turns in the lock she playfully drags him through the open door then kicks it closed with her boot.

If he intends to gather information about her by analyzing the contents of the apartment then he’s sure to be disappointed. The place exudes the bland sensibility of a budget hotel room, from the plain navy blue comforter on the queen-sized bed that takes up most of the studio-sized room to the depressing shortage of personal mementos on the walls.

“It’s...rather spare,” he finally offers, politely. His commitment to keeping up his tourist act is almost too much; Natasha finds herself having to bite down on the inside of her cheek to prevent a grin from betraying her.

“I travel a lot for my job.” She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I just never have the time to decorate.”

He nods slowly, fingers trailing over the back of the beige couch as he walks around it. “I understand. It’s very difficult to make any place your own when one is constantly on the move.”

An interesting choice of words. Perhaps she’ll manage to extract his current location from him before the night is over. “Would you like anything to drink?” she calls out as she heads for the tiny kitchen.

“Whatever you’re having is fine.”

“Then I hope you don’t mind vodka.” While she fills up the shot glasses, eyes tracking Loki as he investigates the meager collection of books piled on top of a table, she stealthily drops one hand under the counter and presses a button. A drawer slides out noiselessly to her left. Snatching up the loaded Glock, she hurriedly tucks it into the back of her jeans right before he turns around.

Drinks in hand, Natasha returns to the main room and takes a seat on the couch. He follows her lead and makes himself comfortable next to her, accepting the shot she presses into his hands with a smile. His fingers brush briefly against hers and she wonders if she's imagining the faint sizzle of electricity that passes between them.

“Cheers.” She quickly tosses the shot back and waits until after he’s finished taking a sip before making her move, relieving him of the glass and dropping it to the floor along with hers. With the fluid grace of the dancer she was in another lifetime, she lifts a leg over his lap to straddle his thigh. Loki tilts his head to look up at her, bemused, a question flashing in his eyes, but she cuts off any protest by leaning in and pressing her mouth to his.

His body goes rigid beneath her – strange, he had to know this was coming – but in the next breath he’s melting into her, lips parting, an invitation for her to slide her tongue in. His hands finds her knees at first, tracing along the rounded shape of them as the kiss deepens. They don’t linger there however; his hands begin sliding along her thigh, his destination alarmingly clear.

Her ass. And the weapon hidden behind her.

Thinking quickly, she reaches behind her neck and tugs loose the knot holding her halter top up. A twist of her shoulders and the fabric slithers down with a sigh, baring her breasts.

Loki doesn't resist when she drags his hands away from her hips. His groan vibrates against her mouth as she molds his fingers over her breasts. He’s quick to the idea. In the space of seconds he has her moaning helplessly, her nipples hardening to aching peaks under his sure touch.

She could get lost in this, the heat of his mouth, the hard promise of his erection grinding into her. It takes more effort than she anticipates to twist her arm behind her and pull out the Glock. But once her hand closes over the grip determination slams back into her, an ice cold shower dousing her arousal.

Immediately, Natasha jams the muzzle into the hollow beneath his jaw, forcing his head up. The muscles along the side of his neck flex convulsively as he swallows hard. His eyes are wide with what seems like shock and confusion, but she can see past that to the malice lurking behind.

"Drop the illusion Loki," she says flatly, the flirtatious demeanor gone. When he doesn't comply with her request quickly enough, she digs the weapon further into his flesh. "Don’t tempt me. I’ve always wanted to find out if a gun fired at point blank range is enough to kill an Asgardian."

He exhales softly, a surrender of sorts, as his form begins to phase in and out of reality before eventually coalescing into one more familiar. The feral grin that splits his face, coupled with the manic gleam in his eyes, takes her back. To a glass cage, where she once sat down to play chess with a god.

Perhaps it was foolish of her to assume that they had ever stopped playing.

"Are you not enjoying yourself Agent Romanoff?" Loki asks in a silky tone, clearly unfazed by the possibility of a bullet tearing through his brain. It’s not as if his dismissal of her threat is unwarranted. No, she’s the one in the more precarious position, with her top pooled around her waist leaving her half-naked, and his hands curled intimately over her. His thumbs stroke feather-light along the swell of her breasts, a taunt more than a tease, one that has her struggling to hold still and repress a shiver. "I admit that I may be a bit rusty due to my recent imprisonment but with practice—"

The gun strikes his face with a stomach-churning crack, snapping his head to the side and opening a small cut on the corner of his mouth. Bracing for a counterattack, Natasha keeps her weapon trained closely on him but her actions only earn her a soft laugh and a bemused head shake.

“That was a bit of an overreaction.”

“Shut up.” She scrambles off his lap and gets to her feet, the Glock held steady despite the tremor in her fingers and aimed straight at his eyes. The change in position is meant to press what little advantage she has, but it immediately becomes painfully evident that there is none to be had. Loki could slip behind her and snap her neck in the time it takes for her to squeeze the trigger. That he chooses not to retaliate for the insult is a calculation she hasn’t accounted for, and that uncertainty shapes the flint-harsh edge of her question. "Why are you here?"

He makes a show of licking away the blood on his lips before answering. "I mean no harm to Midgard."

"One, you didn’t answer my question. Two, your very presence is practically a declaration of war.”

"How strange then, that you haven't informed your superiors about my trespassing?” Loki settles back on the couch and casually props an elbow over the top of it, looking every inch at home in a space she considers hers. “You knew it was me in that bar. And yet here we are. No SHIELD lackeys waiting to break down your front door. Not even my brother.” He pauses, mouth twisting into a mocking smile. “Tell me, why is that?”

“You should know by now that I don’t need any assistance in taking you on.” The lie trips off her tongue smoothly, infused with a confidence she doesn’t entirely possess. It’s no use; she’s bluffing with a pair of sevens against Loki’s flush and as expected, he calls her out on it.

“We can dispense with the falsehoods, don’t you agree?” His gaze sweeps over her, tracing a deliberate path down her body. It lingers on her exposed skin, calling to mind the way his mouth slanted eagerly across hers. The heated press of his palms against her breasts. “Now that we’re on much more intimate terms,” he adds, a hunger shading his words, making his intent clear enough to draw a shocked gasp from her.

“You’re fucking joking,” Natasha says in disbelief, swallowing down the hysterical laugh that threatens to bubble out of her throat. Loki remains silent, the smile deepening into an outright grin the confirmation she needed. “Let me see if I understand. You were free. Could’ve hidden yourself anywhere in the universe. And you risked being captured just so that you could fuck me?”

“I have my doubts as to your organization’s ability to do so. But essentially, yes.”

“What makes you think that I would agree?” she spits out heatedly.

He raises a dark eyebrow at her. “Don’t lie to yourself, Natasha. You enjoyed what we shared as much as I did. Why not indulge your baser desires?”

A denial hovers on the tip of her tongue, ready to spill when another, better idea occurs to her.

It’s possible that he's telling the truth. That he has no plans for attacking Earth again. Or he's lying and toying with her because he lacks for amusement and this is what gets him off.

Well, one thing that gets him off, at least. If Loki wants her to use him, how could she deny him the pleasure? Especially when he’s making it so easy for her to do her job.

Natasha takes a breath and slowly lets it out as she lowers the gun.


	3. Chapter 3

“Stand up and strip.” 

Despite Loki’s professed interest in her, Natasha doubts that he’ll be entirely cooperative.  Which means she’s not particularly inclined to couch her request in seduction or pleasantness.  She’s prepared for sarcasm, even resentment at her audacity in demanding obedience, so the quickness with which he gets to his feet stuns her slightly. 

“No magic,” she adds when she sees green light beginning to gather at his fingertips.  He extinguishes it immediately with a flick of his wrist.

“As you wish.”  He gives her an easy, confident grin as he flicks open the button on his shirt just below his throat.  The rest are undone in a deliberate, almost teasingly slow manner that nearly has her rolling her eyes.  There’s a soft _clink_ of a belt buckle, the sharp whisper of a zipper, and then his pants drop to his ankles.  He steps out of them, lets the shirt fall on top, and nimbly toes off socks and shoes. 

Though he lacks his brother’s imposing bulk Loki is impressive in his own way.  The corded muscles that ripple with his every unhurried movement, along with the scatter of faded scars across his pale skin mark him as a man who’s no stranger to physical combat.  It’s not much of a surprise; Natasha’s studied enough of the footage SHIELD has on file to be aware of this. 

A more pleasant one is the thick, erect cock between his thighs.  He’s larger than any of her previous partners, assigned or otherwise.  She imagines taking him inside her, imagines that incredible sensation of being completely filled, and she has to hold herself back from squeezing her legs together to relieve the pulsing ache between them.

When she finally drags her eyes up from his groin she finds that his grin has deepened into a smirk, as if he’s read her very thoughts.  “Have I met your exacting standards?”

“You’ll do.  For now,” she replies coolly.  She gestures with the Glock toward the floor.  “On your knees.”

His amusement, simmering ever since he revealed himself to her, only seems to increase.  With a gracefulness she could not have predicted, Loki lowers himself to the floor and rests his palms on his thighs, his gaze never breaking from hers, a defiant tilt to his head despite his submissive posture.

( _Oh but to drive that out of him, no matter how many times it takes—_ )

With a sharp inhale Natasha spins away from the image he’s presenting.  She’s getting ahead of herself and she can’t afford to make a mistake, not with someone as devious as him.  As a distraction she heads back to the kitchen to store her weapon back in its hiding place, confident now in his assertion that he won’t harm her. 

She returns to stand in front of him.  “You’re really into this,” she observes dryly.  It’s her turn to take what little she has left off, Loki watching her with the same hungry gaze she’d leveled at him.  “Were you imagining me naked when we had our little chat at the bar?” she asks lightly as she kicks off her boots and tugs her jeans down.

A predatory light enters his eyes.  “On your knees with my cock between your plump lips.”

Natasha hums in thought as she shimmies out of her thong.  Naturally he’s fishing for a reaction, trying to throw her off-balance with crude remarks, hoping that her control will falter.  Hardly different from the tactics he employed on the Helicarrier. 

It’s almost disappointing, his lack of creativity.  It doesn’t bode well for his skill in other areas.

She steps around him and positions herself on the couch, spreading her legs wide.  At the unspoken invitation Loki shuffles closer on his knees, entirely focused on the motion of her fingers as they trace lightly over her slit.  She’s so wet, and all from some heavy petting and kissing. 

Natasha tries not to think about what it could all mean.  “I’m surprised you’d even consider fucking a human.  Thought you considered us beneath you.”

“The centuries pass more quickly when one is open to new experiences.  Asgard can be…stifling at times.”

“So you’ve done this before?  Visited Earth to fuck around with lowly mortals?”

Finally he wrests his eyes away from her busy hand.  “You can’t imagine all the things I’ve done, Natasha.  So much that your frail human mind can’t even contemplate, though I would be not be averse to sharing those stories with you,” he offers, a sly tilt to his lips.

“Another time.  I have a better use for that mouth of yours.”  She lifts her arms and slides her fingers through his thick hair.  “Don’t stop until I come.  “And,” she says as she catches him reaching for her, “keep your hands behind your back.  I’m driving.”

A scowl turns down the corners of his mouth.  “Are you this demanding with your lovers?  That would explain why you have so few—”

With an exasperated huff Natasha yanks his head forward until the tip of his nose nudges her mons.  Seconds tick by and he remains still, with no attempt to live up to his part of the bargain.  She’s about to prod him to action with a sharp tug on his hair when she feels Loki turn his head and press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh.  A second one, this time over her slit, and then a third as he eases the lips of her cunt apart.  He explores every inch of her with long, slow licks, like he’s cataloguing her reactions for future reference.  Like he’s savoring the taste and feel of her.  Like he can’t get enough of her.

And under that clever tongue Natasha begins to fall apart.  There’s no stopping the breathy moans that fall from her lips.  Or the way her hips buck wildly against his mouth, chasing the electric sensations he wrings from her body.  Loki reads her surrender in the small tremors that run through her and becomes more eager, probing her entrance with firm strokes of his tongue before capturing her clit with his lips. 

“Fuck, yes,” Natasha hisses out softly.  Right there, she wants his mouth right there and so he is, sucking gently but firmly, the tip of his tongue flicking lightly against the swollen nub.  Heat prickles across her skin, sinking deep and igniting nerve endings.  Her climax quickly overtakes her, pleasure spiking as she cries out and her thighs close around his head.

She’s still riding out the last waves of her climax when Loki begins to pull back, apparently thinking that his work is done.  And he is most definitely not.  Natasha locks him in place between her legs with a tighter grip on his hair.  She tilts her hips up, all the better to push her still throbbing cunt into his face, and to his credit, he cooperates, lapping at her again without hesitation.  The motions of his tongue have become sloppy, not as precise as before but it does the job all the same.  He brings her to another orgasm and only after the aftershocks have faded and she’s left panting heavily does she decide to release him.

Loki makes a show of catching his breath, staring up at her from between her knees, mouth glistening with her slick and set in a thin, angry line.  “You presume too much,” he spits out, clearly irritated as he begins to withdraw from her.  “If you think—”

A foot planted in the center of his chest cuts off the lecture.  Obviously she’ll need to keep his mouth occupied at all times.  She forces him back until he’s lying flat on the floor.  Natasha is on him in heartbeat, knees bracketing his hips, her cunt sliding wetly over his cock as she rocks back and forth.

“How long can I keep you like this?” she asks in a low, rough whisper.  “Desperate to come.  To sink your aching cock inside my cunt?”

“Natasha…” he says, a warning that she laughs off even as she takes the tip of his cock inside her.  She clenches around him, delighted by the way his body convulses and his fingers dig deep into the curve of her ass.  She could keep him like this for a while, drawing out the teasing, but she’s desperate to fuck him too.  Natasha lowers herself slowly until he’s seated fully inside her.  He feels so damn good, thick and hard, stretching her in all the right places. 

It’s almost enough.  She captures his hand and brings his fingers into her mouth, running her tongue over each digit before guiding his hand down, over her breast, her belly, and finally between her legs.  With his thumb pressing on her swollen clit Natasha rides him hard, something wild and uncontrolled seeping into the blur of her pelvis slamming into his. 

Her pleasure crests and ebbs quickly, in the space of minutes.  She lifts herself off his cock before he can find his and drags herself down his thighs.  Loki pushes up on his elbows immediately, outrage at being denied evident in his narrowed eyes and the downward slant of his mouth, but any protest dissolves into a groan when she wraps her hand around his slick-wet cock.  A few rough pumps of her wrist is all it takes to make him come, thick spurts of semen coating his abdomen and her fist.  He falls back, breathless, utterly wrecked, half-lidded eyes locked to hers as she lowers her head and licks up the come that stains his skin until there’s nothing left.

Crawling up his body, Natasha crashes her mouth into his.  She can taste herself and him as she tangles her tongue against his and it’s intoxicating, heady, more potent than any drug.  They settle into a luxuriously slow exploration of each other, interrupted only when she feels something unmistakably hard prodding the inside of her thigh.  “Impossible,” she murmurs against his lips. 

His response is a grin pressed to the corner of her mouth.  “I am a god, Natasha.  My stamina is far superior to any human’s.”  To prove his point he hooks an arm around her waist and rolls her over, pinning her to the floor with the weight of his body, the blunt head of his cock brushing against her already soaking wet cunt.

In response Natasha wraps a leg around him and the shift in position allows his cock to slip inside her easily, both of them groaning at the sensation.  “I’m going to need a demonstration of this.”  She braces her hands on his shoulders, enjoying the play of muscle beneath her fingertips.  “A very thorough demonstration.”

And Loki, much to her delight, seems more than willing to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Thanks to everyone who waited patiently for the last chapter. Hope it was worth it. :D


End file.
